Disengaged
by Hibbleton78
Summary: Edward's a workaholic and Bella is tired of coming in last place. With one bold move, she sets them on a path to either destruction or salvation. ***No Cheating***
1. Chapter 1

**Giving something new a try. I've had this in my head for months, it just kept building, apparently my outlet for stress was to torture fictional characters with misery. I've never written a lot of angst, so we'll see how this goes. This isn't going to knock Home Ice Advantage off the priority list, so readers of that story, no worries. I have the next chapter almost finished so I'm hoping to send it off to beta this weekend.  
**

**Beta, oh yeah, I don't have one for this. Like I said, writing this is more of an outlet for stress so it's more of a "when the mood strikes, jump on it" kind of thing, so I'm gonna try to do this on my own. Hopefully I did a moderately decent job cleaning it up. If not, feel free to throw rotten tomatoes at me.  
**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

He pulled into the driveway of the large home set back from the road that he'd worked so hard to be able to buy for her. The tiny apartment they'd called home for three years had been suitable—it had served its purpose well enough—but he'd always wanted more. He'd had an image in his head of what his future would look like, and the perfect house was one piece of the puzzle.

His career was taking off, his company in such high demand that he was having trouble keeping up. The money coming in allowed him to not only bring home a bigger paycheck, but expand the business quicker than originally planned.

His family was doing well. He didn't get to see them as much as he liked, but everyone was happy and healthy every time he did get an opportunity to visit. His mother doted, his father advised, and his brother taunted, just like old times.

And the perfect girl, he had her. She'd walked into his life freshman year of college. He was at an impromptu party in the dorms, and she'd arrived with her roommate, doing her best to blend in with the walls so that nobody noticed her. He'd spotted her instantly and crossed the room to get to her before someone else did. He'd tried to charm her and soon realized that lines didn't work at her. She'd only arched a brow and laughed in a way that let him know she wasn't impressed. He'd changed tactics and cut out the games. It took her a little while to warm up to him after his abysmal start, but as he shared stories about himself, she began to reciprocate. So distracted by each other, they didn't notice that the party had died out until her roommate came by to see if she was ready to go.

After that night, Edward and Bella had been inseparable. Four years (and a degree each) later he was working odd hours trying to get his IT company off the ground, making himself available nights and weekends in an attempt to draw big clients with his flexibility and availability. She was making coffee and answering phones at a marketing agency, grasping every opportunity to learn by being a fly on the wall. They made plans for their future but agreed to wait until their lives were more stable.

Another two years went by until she'd moved up from errand girl to an associate with her own projects to plan and execute, and he'd built a steady client base that kept his pockets lined and his company thriving. On one knee, he'd asked her to marry him and she'd said yes, smiling through tears even though he'd never kept his intentions a secret.

As he walked up to the house he noticed how dark it was inside. A light was shining from the back—the kitchen, he assumed, or maybe the dining room—but every other room was pitch black. Under the porch light he glanced at his watch and cursed. He'd lost all track of time, and it was way past eleven. He'd promised her he'd be home hours ago and prepared himself for major groveling.

If he'd thought the house seemed dark, it didn't compare to how quiet it was. It was one of those unsettling moments where nothing was out of place yet everything was wrong. As soon as he'd walked through the door he knew something was off, though he couldn't pinpoint what it was. He held perfectly still, listening for any sound but hearing nothing but his own breaths. She was probably already asleep, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.

Quiet steps led him from room to room where everything appeared to be as it should. In the hall, her shoes had been kicked off haphazardly to the side. In the living room an afghan was tossed over the back of the couch and a book abandoned on the end table. In the kitchen everything was spotless, put away in its rightful place. In the dining room, however, one place setting still sat at the table having long ago gone cold. The guilt twisted in his gut, and as he turned to walk out of the room a flash of something caught his eye.

Lying between the silverware and a full glass of white wine was a diamond ring.

* * *

Racing up the stairs, he beelined for the bedroom. He knew she wouldn't be there but couldn't help the disappointment at finding out he hadn't misread the situation. The bed was still made, not a pillow out of place. The closet was full so if she'd packed she hadn't taken much with her. There was a small, empty space on the top rack where an overnight bag used to sit. In the connecting bathroom her toiletries were missing.

Stepping back into the bedroom he stood with his fists on his hips, looking around as he tried to figure out what to do next. He ran back down the stairs and found himself back in the dining room where he shoved the plate off of the table and watched it skid across the floor. The spike of adrenaline from the act prompted him to do the same to the ceramic bowl full of fruit at the center of the table, the crash and scattering of shards strangely therapeutic. He picked up the ring and closed his fist around it, enjoying the bite of metal and gemstone in his skin, almost hoping it would draw blood. With a roar, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

Without looking back, he grabbed his keys and jogged to his car.

Skidding to a halt in front of a small house across town, his fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he stared at her car parked at the curb. He'd had a few places in mind, but he had a feeling this was where she'd be. He half expected somebody to come out of the house; to greet him, to stop him, to yell at him . . . something. But it was silent. A few lights were on and a flicker in the front window told him that someone was watching TV.

He took a few moments to calm himself down. Nothing good would come of storming in there with emotions running high. Once he felt sufficiently leveled out, he got out of the car and made the long walk up the front path.

Halfway through knocking, the door swung open to reveal Jasper casually draped against it with a bottle of beer in one hand.

"She isn't here."

Caught off guard, it took him a moment to respond. "What do you mean she isn't here? Her car is right out front."

"She isn't here," Jasper repeated with a little more force. "The girls took off right after she got here. They took Alice's car."

Edward was starting to lose patience. "Well where did they go?" Even he could hear the frustration creeping into his voice, all attempts to mellow out failing with each passing second.

Jasper held his hands in the air and shrugged, shaking his head. "Not a clue, man. The way she was crying, I figured the less I knew the better. My only concern was to stay the hell out of it."

Edward cursed under his breath, and when Jasper opened the door and motioned him inside, he followed. They detoured to the kitchen where Jasper pulled a beer from the fridge and passed it over to Edward who just looked at it without drinking.

"So you really have no idea where she is? Where they went?" As much as it went against his ego and sense of masculinity, he wasn't above begging in this moment. "C'mon, anything?"

"Have you tried to call her?" Jasper asked.

"Of course I tried to call her. All the way over here I tried to call her. It went straight to voice mail every time."

Jasper whistled and shook his head. "I'm sure she'll be back. If it's any consolation, they didn't take much with them. They can't be planning more than a night. Maybe you should go home and just wait it out."

Edward laughed, low and humorless. "Yeah, I'll just sit around and wait. She leaves without a fucking word and the only thing I can do is wait. Bullshit." He stood up, slamming the full beer on the end table, and spun around to Jasper. "If you see her or hear from her, you can tell her . . . you can tell her . . . fuck it. You know what? Don't tell her a goddamn thing."

With that, he stormed out of the house and back to the car, his bravado slipping with each step.

He went back to the house and waited.

* * *

The lightened sky and the tick of the second hand of an old clock were the only things marking the passage of time. For the first couple hours, he was able to count the passing hours by the number of empty bottles scattered around him, but he'd stopped some time ago. All he knew was that Saturday morning had come and he was mostly sober.

If he didn't know better, he would've sworn the birds outside were mocking him with each cheerful chirp. Didn't they realize everything was falling apart? He hated feeling helpless, and until he could do more than sit and wait, that was the only thing he could feel. By nature, he just wanted to fix the problem, to find out which pieces broke and put them back together. But until she walked through that door, he had no way to begin. Until then he'd sit here and fiddle with the ring he'd salvaged from the mess in the dining room.

With each drink he'd imbibed the night before, different scenarios played out. Sometimes he was angry with her, laying the blame for the situation at her feet. Other times he listed his own failures and wondered how this hadn't happened sooner. But now, in the morning light, he was just tired. Physically, mentally, and emotionally drained.

He rested his head back against the couch and closed his eyes, trying his best to disconnect from it all. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until the crunch of tires woke him up with a start. The sound of the car pulling into the driveway was recognizable on its own, but if there'd been any question in his mind that she'd finally returned, the hiss and scrape of the garage door would've told him.

After the long, lonely hours spent in his own head, he refused to get up from his seat to greet her on principle. He'd waited all night, a little while longer wouldn't kill him. Silence stretched for long minutes; she must've been sitting in the car working up the courage to come inside. When he finally heard her enter the house his heart sped up but he focused all his effort on remaining outwardly unaffected.

Inside, he was a mess, and as he caught his first glimpse of her in twenty-four hours, she seemed to be just as bad. There was so much trepidation in her steps, in her posture. She'd only glance at him for a split second before diverting her eyes elsewhere. She wrung her hands as she leaned back against the wall as if afraid to come too close. Her clothes were a bit wrinkled, her hair a little wild, but what got to him the most was the dark circles under and red rings around her eyes.

And somehow, when all he wanted to do was be angry with her, she was still beautiful to him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Again, no beta. Mistakes are all on me.  
**

**For those that didn't see the change in the summary, there is NO cheating. This chapter should make that clear, though. Also, they aren't married yet. Still engaged. Hence the title ;-) Again, clear in this chapter.  
**

**Next Home Ice Advantage chapter is finished and with the beta, so that should be up soon. Thanks for reading!  
**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Silence hovered heavy in the air for a few more minutes before Bella cleared her throat.

"Hi."

Everything about this moment was uncomfortable, so she wasn't surprised when he didn't respond. She took unsure steps to the loveseat across from him, and sat down at the edge of the cushion, her attention focused on the hands folded in her lap rather than the stare she could feel coming from him. She caught herself playing with the bare skin of her finger where her engagement ring once sat.

"I, um—" She cleared her throat again, her voice hoarse in a way that betrayed the knowledge that she'd spent most of the night crying. "I'm sorry about, well, for leaving without a word last night."

She paused and sighed as he watched her struggle. "God, why is it so hard to just talk?"

"Maybe because you left without a word last night?" he said, throwing her words back at her.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, his biting tone focusing her. "You were supposed to be home no later than seven. You knew I wanted to talk. You knew I was upset. And yet you still managed to forget . . . again."

He seemed to struggle with how to respond, probably because he knew she was right. She'd called him around lunch time to see what time he'd be home. Her voice had been shaky and she'd been sniffling, though she insisted she was fine, that they just needed to talk. He'd said seven, he could be home by seven, and confirmed it each of the three times she'd asked before she hung up.

But he wasn't there at seven. Or eight. By nine she had been pacing angrily through the house, desperate to do whatever it took to finally get his attention. He loved her, right? It shouldn't have been so hard for him to make her a priority once in a while. She was at her breaking point, having hit her low that afternoon. More than ever, she'd needed him to come home and reassure her, and he had disappointed her once again. By ten-thirty she had been packed and heading out the door, already regretting her escape but knowing that no good would come from a confrontation that night.

"Yes, I forgot. But if you want to talk, you don't _leave_."

"It was the lesser of two evils," she said. "Any conversation we would've had last night would've ended badly. I needed to get out, to clear my head, so that I could come back and talk to you once I'd calmed down."

"So, talk," he said. She didn't take offense to the attitude in his voice. It had always bothered him not to be able to fix things, especially if something was hurting her. That she had complete control of the situation and he was still mostly in the dark had to bother him.

"Why didn't you come home when you said you would?"

"That's what you want to talk about? I thought you had something else going on? That was why you called me in the first place yesterday."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Please, just answer the question."

He was quiet for too long so she opened her eyes back up and looked at him. He was studying her, trying to gauge her, as if she'd just handed him a trick question and setting him up for failure.

His voice had softened, pleading for trust and understanding, and his expression was distraught. "I'm not cheating on you. I've never—"

She shook her head to stop him. "No, I know that. I never thought you were." He exhaled in relief as she continued. "Why weren't you here?"

"I was working," he said, defensiveness creeping back in. "I had a client whose server died on them after a power outage. I had to get it back up and running."

She started crying as an awkward and untimely smile crept onto her face. "And that's the problem," she said.

"What is?" he said, not understanding her point. Of course he wouldn't understand. He didn't realize how much those late nights and canceled plans ate away at her.

"Your job . . . it always comes first."

"That isn't true," he argued.

"Do you know what I did today? Actually, what I didn't do?" she asked, pleading. "I stared at the order form for our wedding invitations for an hour and couldn't hit submit."

He held her ring up as a flash of anger crossed his face. "So I guess that's the reason for this then. It's over? Just like that?"

She could feel the tears building as the conversation started to take a downhill slide. She'd been foolish to think that a night away would somehow make it easy.

"No," she said. "Just, will you listen to me for a minute? I'm trying to explain!"

She took his silence as a yes and pressed on. "Do you realize that was the third time I've had to do that? I've ordered those same damn invitations twice already. _Twice_ I've had to throw them out before they were even mailed. _Twice_ we've had to reschedule this wedding because you couldn't take the time off of work. And both times," she said, pausing when her voice hitched. "Both times it wrecked me. Absolutely devastated me. All I could think was that this must be what it felt like to be left at the altar. I couldn't do it. Ordering those invitations felt like I was setting myself up to go through it all over again. They're just little pieces of paper with a few lines of calligraphy, yet they have the power to completely shatter me. I can't do it again. _That_ was why I called you yesterday."

She wasn't doing a very good job holding in her sobs, though she tried with all her might. She watched as he held his head in hands, pulling violently at his hair as he took in everything she'd said. The distance between them—physical and emotional—felt wrong, but she forced herself to stay put. After the extreme measures she'd taken the night before, she wasn't sure if she'd be welcome. Especially since nothing had been resolved yet.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked, sounding agonized. "You said it was fine, that you understood."

She sniffled. "I know. I was afraid to admit how much it bothered me. I knew that your job was important to you, and I wanted to be understanding and supportive. For a while I felt like I was being selfish for feeling like that, but lately . . . I don't know, lately I don't think it's such a bad thing."

"How long have you felt like this?" he said as he moved to sit next to her. The awkwardness between them held heavy in the air, not allowing them to comfort each other as they normally would. As it was, even simple hand-holding was questionable as evidenced by the four false starts he made before finally taking her hand in between both of his. It was the only touch they allowed themselves, afraid to upset the fragile understanding between them.

To distract herself, she watched his hands flex as they played with her fingers, stroking them, massaging her palm. He seemed to find some comfort in her silent consent.

"A while, I suppose," she said. Taking a deep breath, she knew this was the time for complete honesty. They were at a crossroads, and although it may hurt to do so, the whole truth was the only way to get past this. "Right after the first time we rescheduled."

His head shot up as he looked at her, stunned. "That was a year ago."

She nodded. "It wasn't this bad then. I started having these moments, usually when I was here alone and you were working late again, where my mind would wander. I would just randomly get this fear that nights like that were all I had to look forward to."

She could feel his tension by the rigidity with which he now held her hand, could hear it in the measured breaths he took, exhaling sharply through his nose. But he wasn't interrupting so she continued.

"And then after the second time—" She stopped when he let go of her and scrubbing his face with his hands. "After the second time it was worse. You were gone even more, and all that time alone messed with my head. I kept waiting for things to get better, for things to finally slow down so that you could be home more like you promised. But after a while I started to doubt that was ever going to happen."

He stood and started pacing, while her heart started to beat a rapid staccato. She'd have given anything to know what was running through his mind, just a hint to prepare herself for the impending outburst.

"So, what? All those plans we made, all the discussions we had, you couldn't have mentioned this? You couldn't once say that you don't think I can balance my job and being married to you?"

"I know. All right? I know!" she said, matching his ire. "I never said I was completely innocent here. I could've mentioned it sooner, but I didn't. Maybe things would have been easier if I had, but I can't change that. What I _can_ do is address it now before it gets worse . . . before the wedding, before kids, before everything else we planned."

"Why do you think I work like I do? Because of everything we planned. For this house, for our futures, for our kids and their futures. I want us to be comfortable, to not struggle."

They were both standing in some complex face-off where they battled with physical positioning and heated words.

"I'd much rather have a smaller house with fewer things in it than to have to watch our kids disappointed yet again that you missed a baseball game, a school play, a recital. That's what terrifies me the most right now. That you're so singularly focused on providing that you aren't prepared to actually be there for all of it."

His pacing had taken him to the back of the couch where his hands dug into the cushions. "I've told you . . . it won't always be like this. Eventually, I'll have more people working for me who can take most of that burden."

"You've been saying that for so long, though," she said, beseeching him to understand. "The company is doing so well. You keep talking about all this money you have to expand. So why haven't you hired more staff? I know you can afford it, that you can justify bringing a couple more people on board to make those inconvenient calls for you. Why can't you give up just a little of the control? Find a couple people that you trust to work in your stead so that you can be home."

"It's not that easy," he said. "Changes like that take time. I can't just put an ad in the paper and then be home at five every day a week later."

As much as she hated how they made her feel weak, she couldn't stop the tears welling in her eyes. Last night, sitting in that hotel room with Alice as she cried and worked through what needed to be said, she knew this would be the hardest part.

"I know," she said, her voice breaking. "And that's why I think everything else should be put on hold until then. Because I can't move ahead while everything is a hypothetical."

Even through the blur of tears she couldn't miss the way his eyes darted to her ring on the coffee table and up to her. She nodded and watched as his face fell. His eyes closed tightly as emotion overcame him as well. With much trepidation, she moved closer to him, laying a hesitant hand on his shoulder. His eyes opened as they regarded each other for a moment before he crushed her into a hug.

"I'm so sorry."

She sniffled and grasped onto his shirt. "I know. So am I."

They stayed like that for untold minutes, afraid to let go and shatter this small comfort. She broke the silence first. "I'm going to pack another bag. I think it's better if I stay somewhere else for now. It'll be too easy to slip back into old habits otherwise."

"You don't have to do that," he said, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "I can go."

She shook her head. "No, I'd rather go." There was a short pause, and with a hitch in her voice, she added, "I've spent too many nights here alone already. I can't stay here by myself."

His only response was to hold her tighter.

That night, crying alone in her hotel room, she prayed that her ultimatum wouldn't backfire.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sitting in the small café, he tried to distract himself from watching the door. With little to occupy his attention, he found thumb tracing paths between the drops of condensation forming on his water glass. It had only been three days since she'd packed her bags and moved out of the house—temporarily, they both hoped—but he'd already started to understand the torture of waiting.

He was early, he knew, but that didn't stop him from wondering what it would feel like if she didn't show. She wouldn't do that though; she always followed through with her promises. The new perspective with which he'd been viewing every situation, however, led his imagination on new and frightful journeys that always ended up with her deciding it wasn't worth it—deciding _he_ wasn't worth it.

At the sound of the bell over the door ringing yet again, he lifted his eyes to see her glancing around the room before finding him. He sagged in relief as she wound her way through the tables, closing in on him with each step.

"Hey," she said, a little breathless as she draped her purse strap then jacket over the back of the chair.

He reached across the table to brush his fingertips over hers, needing the touch like he needed to breathe. Being without her had been hard, seconds stretching for hours and hours stretching for days. Even though he'd spent so much time away from the house—and by extension, her—he hadn't realized just how much he had relied on simply knowing she was there, that she was waiting for him when he did get home.

They made small talk as they tried to adjust to this new reality. Though they'd talked every night on the phone, and occasionally they'd speak during the day, this was the first time they'd been face to face since that night. As much as he didn't like it, he understood her reasoning. It would be too easy to fall right back into old habits if everything else stayed the same. So now, instead of the easy conversation they'd had from the start, they awkwardly transitioned from one mindless topic to the next.

The waitress came over to take their orders, and as soon as she left, Edward reached out for Bella's hand again. Boundaries were unclear but this one seemed to be okay so he'd take it and every other opportunity she'd give him.

"So I have an appointment to look at a couple apartments after work," she said, fidgeting with nervousness as she spoke. He tensed, wary of this line of conversation and its potential implications.

"Where—" His voice cracked and he cleared his throat before trying again. "Where are they?"

They had trouble looking at each other, never lasting more than a few seconds before finding something off to the side to focus on.

"Close to work," she said. "They're all month-to-month. Furnished. Not really permanent commitments, you know? Just something to get me out of a hotel room for now."

He wanted her to move back home but knew better than to bring it up. Nothing had been resolved yet so there was no point in setting himself up to get shot down. But knowing she was looking at temporary housing was a small relief.

"Good. That's good," he said, not even managing to convince himself.

* * *

She hated feeling so nervous around him. It was something she hadn't felt since they'd first met. He'd caught her attention not long after she'd walked into the dorm room hosting that night's party. He was the kind of guy that people gravitated to, as evidenced by the crowd surrounding him and hanging onto his every word. He was pretty—a description that, to this day, she'd never share with him—but still masculine. She could tell by the way he held court in the center of the room that he had no problems with confidence.

Not that she suffered from self-image issues, but she had been used to falling under most people's radar. Comfortable with it, in fact. In high school, she and her friends were perfectly average—part of that group that suspended somewhere in the middle of the all the others. A year ago, she never would have crossed paths socially with a boy like that, so when he left his friends to talk to her, she couldn't help but wait for the punch line. When he started off with the corniest pick-up lines, she was certain that she had been correct. Surely there was a joke being played. Not willing to fall for it, she rolled her eyes and brushed him off. But he was persistent, and after a while she realized he was sincere.

She quickly learned that although he was naturally charismatic, he didn't tether himself to any one social group. He was friendly with everybody, geek or greek, stoner or straight-laced. He was also eager to make her happy, spoiling himself by spoiling her.

Looking at him across the table, she still saw traces of that boy, though time had worn away some of the innocence. He was now carrying the world on his shoulders, trying to do everything himself instead of asking for help. She couldn't pinpoint when the small gestures turned into claiming total responsibility, but somewhere along the lines he took it upon himself to make sure their futures were secure . . . to the detriment of their relationship.

She appreciated what he was trying to do, but she hated that he felt the need to do it. She took a good portion of the blame herself. He'd always done so much for her that she wanted to be able to reciprocate, so when he decided to start his own company rather than work for someone else, she supported him. When plans were interrupted in those early days, she understood that she would have to sacrifice time with him now until he had the business up and running. When he worked later and later, promising that things were looking up and that one day soon he could expand his staff to take some of the burden, she believed him.

Looking back, she could see where she went wrong. Every disappointment at having to alter plans, every night spent alone, she kept quiet about how much it bothered her in an attempt to be the perfect, supportive partner. Even as he put the futures he worked for on hold, she had been too afraid to voice dissent, and now they were paying the price. While it would have no doubt caused some waves if she had put her foot down back then, they might've been able to prevent the problems they currently faced. Now they had to deal with cracks in their relationship and the organizational nightmare of restructuring his company.

"I have an appointment with the accountant tomorrow," he said, interrupting her wandering thoughts.

"Oh?" she said.

Her attention was drawn to his hands. Seemingly without realizing it, he was tracing the pale line left behind where her ring had been. Her heart clenched and she held her breath as she tried to will the tears away before they could form. The mark wasn't obvious to anyone not looking for it, but to her it may as well have been a neon sign. She felt naked without the ring, but circumstances prevented her from asking for it back. She wasn't sure what the proper protocol was for something like this, and by the solemn look on his face, even when it was clear that he wasn't aware of what he was doing, told her that he was just as confused.

He cleared his throat, pulling his hand away from hers and resting his chin on his fists as he looked off to the side. "Yeah, I need to know what I have to work with financially before I make any big decisions."

She nodded when he glanced at her.

"I just . . . I have no idea where to even start. There's so much to think about, so many decisions to make. So many changes." He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, tilting it onto its back legs. "I can't think straight. I'm afraid of screwing everything up."

His frustration tugged at her. "I'm sorry," she said.

"No, I should've done this a long time ago," he said as the chair slammed back onto all four legs.

He glanced at his watch and pulled a face. It wasn't until that moment that she realized just how long they'd been there. She'd have to be back to work soon, something he'd most likely noticed when noting the time.

"Can we do this tomorrow?" he asked, then shook his head. "No, not tomorrow. I have that meeting. The day after?"

She nodded and touched his hand. "Definitely."

* * *

"This one's a little smaller, but newly renovated," the realtor said as they entered the small, but cozy lobby. "It's also closer to your work."

Bella nodded as she looked around. It was nicer than the last two, at least from what she could tell of the entrance, but her heart wasn't in it. It was back in a four bedroom house out in the suburbs. But she knew this was for the best. They needed space while they worked out their issues.

"And you said this one is available to move in immediately?" she asked as they stepped onto the elevator.

As they began to ascend, the realtor flipped through the stack of information she'd been carrying all day.

"Yes, and they'll prorate the rent rather than charge you the full month," she said, tucking the papers away once more. "This really is a great place. I've had a number of clients choose this building and I haven't heard a bad thing from any of them. The neighbors tend to be quiet, the views are spectacular. This apartment is on one of the upper floors, so just wait until you see."

Bella offered a half-hearted smile. She was sure the apartment was nice, just as the others had been, but it was hard to get excited about moving into any of them.

Just as the realtor had promised, the apartment was the nicest one yet. It looked brand new, as if no one had ever lived there, giving it a showroom feel. It wasn't a large apartment, but it was plenty big for her. The highlight of the living room was—no surprise—the view. It overlooked the city with a nearly unobstructed view. She imagined it was beautiful at night, all lit up, but the thought of sitting alone on the balcony to enjoy it seemed hollow.

She tried not to wonder whether Edward would be comfortable visiting her there. Logically, she knew it would be nearly impossible for him not to if they were going to make an honest go of fixing their relationship, but every symbol of their separation felt like a landmine ready to be triggered.

Distracting herself, she turned to the kitchen. It opened to the living room, the two rooms separated by a bar. It was small but more than functional with shiny, new appliances and sleek marble countertops. Once again she felt a twist in her gut wondering if she'd ever cook for Edward in there.

She only allowed herself a quick glance at the bedroom, not wanting thoughts to linger. She knew she was thinking too much about her situation and not enough about the apartment itself, so she did another once-over with her mind focused on the decision and not her personal life. In the end it really was the nicest of the three, and the fact that it was only two blocks from her office was a huge bonus. Add in the fact that she could move in right away and her decision was made. She followed the realtor to the main office where she signed the required paperwork and wrote a check for the security deposit and first month's rent, all the while trying to hide her shaking hands.

Outside the building a short while later, her realtor left with one last congratulations. The sentiment tweaked at her. Congratulations meant there was something to celebrate and there was certainly none of that here.

With a heavy heart, she packed up her hotel room and checked out at the front desk. Unable to have this conversation, knowing how much it stung both of them that she no longer lived in their home, she took the coward's way out and texted her new address to Edward.

She had just hauled her two suitcases into her new apartment when he texted back. Whether he'd been busy or had needed the time to craft a response, she didn't know. She glanced around at all of the things that weren't hers, that didn't feel like home, before looking at his response once more as tears began to prick at her eyes.

**I'm sure it's nice, but don't get too comfortable. You'll be home soon. I'm working on it. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Working on the next Home Ice Advantage chapter, but this one was speaking to me today. Enjoy! Thanks for reading!  
**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Edward paced the house searching for anything to bide his time. He was tempted to log into remotely to his office to get ahead on some work, but the thought of doing so made him feel guilty. Even though she wasn't here and it wouldn't affect her, he still felt like doing so would be failing her.

So instead, he organized music and movies until everything was perfectly aligned on the shelves. He emptied the refrigerator of its growing collection of takeout containers. He shredded each piece of junk mail page by page. In short, he was driving himself batshit crazy.

Grabbing a beer, he headed out back to sit in the mild, evening air. When they'd first moved in, they'd spent so much time out here together. The expanse of lawn ended at a copse of trees that began the small wooded area that separated their house from the next neighborhood over. It was quiet and peaceful, and they'd sit and wonder about their future, each prediction growing more and more outlandish.

Their yard had been one of the big selling points of the house. It was the perfect place for a dog, a swingset . . . maybe a treehouse. It was a little harder to see it all than it was when she was here. The images were hazier, but he wanted them just as much.

Deep into his musings and halfway through his beer, the doorbell rang. He knew it wouldn't be her, but part of him hoped.

Hastening to the door, he was disappointed to see his brother standing on the other side. If he could've slowly backed away and pretended he wasn't home he would've, but it was too obvious by all the lights he'd left on that someone was home.

He sighed and opened the door, not looking forward to the conversation ahead of him.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked as he opened the door.

Emmett pushed his way in and made himself at home like always.

"I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd swing by in the off chance you were home. I didn't actually expect it though," he said. He was teasing, but the fact that it was obvious to everyone how little time he spent at home made him cringe with embarrassment. Why had nobody mentioned it before?

"Yeah, well . . ."

The two men made their way into the living room where Emmett sat on the couch, stretching his body to take up as much space as possible. With arms stretched along the back, he looked around and his brow furrowed.

"Hey, where's Bella?"

This was the conversation Edward was dreading. He hadn't told anybody, especially his family, what had happened. As far as he knew, Jasper and Alice were the only ones aware that they were having problems. He wasn't even sure if they knew for certain how things had progressed after that night that Bella had disappeared.

"Not here," he said.

Emmett nodded in understanding, not realizing that he understood nothing. "Oh, she go out with Alice tonight?"

"Nope," Edward said then took a long drink of the beer he still had in his hand. "She's at her apartment tonight."

If it wasn't for the fact that the situation was anything but funny, Emmett's reaction would've been hilarious. Eyes wide, chin dropped, mouth hanging open in a comical O. "Wanna run that by me again?"

Striving for emotionless but unable to keep the bite from his tone, Edward said, "She moved out last weekend."

"Dude, the fuck?"

Edward shrugged, not wanting to get into the details, namely his failures.

Emmett sat forward, elbows on his knees. "What the hell happened?"

"What the fuck do you think happened? You said so yourself, I'm never home. She got fed up with it. End of story." He was angry at himself, not Emmett, but that didn't stop him from taking his aggression out on his brother.

"Shit," Emmett said, still a little shell-shocked. "Is it . . . _over_ over? Does Mom know?"

Edward sighed and raked his hand through his hair. "No, we're working on it. Trying to fix it. And hell no, Mom doesn't know. Are you nuts?"

"You're not gonna be able to hide it from her for long."

"No shit, genius."

Emmett held his hands in the air. "Hey, I'm just saying . . ."

Edward finished his beer and stood up, motioning with the empty bottle to ask Emmett if he wanted one. Walking to the kitchen, he said, "I know I'm going to have to tell Mom and Dad eventually, but how the hell am I supposed to bring it up?"

"You know Mom's gonna cry, right?"

Walking back in with two bottles, he handed one over. "Why do you think I'm putting it off? Well, that and the disappointment. I'm not ready for more of that right now."

When his brother didn't say anything, Edward looked over to see him shaking his head with a humorless laugh.

"What?" he asked, self-conscious.

Emmett waved him off. "Nah, nothing, man. Forget it."

"No, what were you going to say?"

Emmett hesitated for a moment before sighing. "I was just thinking that Rose is gonna be so obnoxious with the I-told-you-sos."

"Oh, so you guys talked about this? About how my relationship was going to fail?" Edward was getting angry now, his mind creating scenes of the two of them laughing and taking bets.

"No," Emmett said, quickly jumping in before Edward riled himself up too much. "Not really. She just had very strong opinions after you guys rescheduled the wedding . . . especially the second time."

Edward scoffed. "I'm sure she did. She has strong opinions on everything. What'd she say?"

Emmett didn't take offense, and the fact that his brother was giving him a pass because he felt bad for him burned Edward even more.

"Nothing much."

"Right," Edward said. In the years that he'd known Rosalie, she'd had plenty to say on every subject.

Emmett's eyebrows raised in challenge. "You really want to know? I'll tell you. And it sounds like she was dead on."

His body began vibrating in anger, the stress of the past week wanting an outlet, and right now, Emmett looked like a pretty good outlet.

"Tell me, what did the 'great and powerful' Rose have to say?"

Finally taking the bait, Emmett snapped. "She said you were an asshole and Bella was a doormat. That if I tried to pull that shit on her there'd be nothing to reschedule. She said it didn't matter how much Bella said she understood, that rescheduling had to be fucking killing her and we were all blind fucks if we didn't see it."

"It's so goddamn easy when you're standing on the outside looking in, nothing better to do than sit back and watch it like a fucking soap opera."

"Yeah, that's exactly what we were all doing," Emmett said, his words coated in sarcasm. "Watching it all go down for the entertainment factor. Come on, you know that if I'd have had any idea this was going to happen that I'd have had no trouble speaking up."

All the fight drained out of Edward. He did know that his brother would've supported him. Maybe it was a men/women thing; they were just incapable of seeing how fragile the relationship was. As long as she kept saying things were okay, he was happy to believe that they were.

"So what are you gonna do?" Emmett asked, his voice much softer and more compassionate than before.

Edward leaned back in his chair, slumping against the cushions as though his body rejected the effort to hold him upright any longer.

"I'm going to hire a couple more people to take some of the burden off of me. I talked to my accountant on Wednesday, got a look at the financials. I can pretty painlessly take on two people to start full time. The money's there to get a couple professionals who already know what they're doing. Depending on a few other factors, I might even be able to swing one or two more for office staff."

"Wasn't that always the plan?"

"Yeah," Edward said. "And I just kept putting it off. I don't know, maybe it was greedy, but it was nice to not have to split the profits, you know? I was able to put so much money back for us, to buy this house, to buy more equipment for the company so that I could offer more to my clients. But what was the point to having money saved for our future if I keep putting our future on hold? And being able to offer more services—when do I have time to actually provide them?"

"At least you're on the right track now," Emmett offered. "And yeah, now you have to factor in salaries, but with the extra man hours, you _can_ provide those services . . . it'll all pay for itself, just watch and see."

Edward managed a small laugh. "It better," he said. "This is scary as hell and I don't know where to start."

"If there's anything I can do, let me know, all right? Have you started looking for people yet?"

Shaking his head, Edward sighed and took a big swig of his beer. "Not yet. I need to put a couple ads out there and wait for the resumes to come in. It's so frustrating. All I want to do is get this done so she'll come home, but there's so much work to do. I'm not going to be able to help working late for a while until everything is up and running, and it's not fair to ask her to move back just so I can leave her here alone."

"Look at you. Little brother, acting all grown up," Emmett teased, laughing at Edward's glare. "Seriously, though. You're doing the right thing. Realistically, it'll be a few weeks—at best—before you can hire and have someone start. Then you have to train them, teach them what they need to know about your clients. Multiply that by two? Or three or four? You have so much administrative shit to set up. At best, it'll probably be a few months before things start to settle down enough that you won't be tethered to the office."

"Yeah, but will she wait that long?" Edward asked, voicing his biggest concern.

"She's been with you how long now?" Emmett asked, pausing to let it sink in. "If she wanted to walk, she would've, but she didn't . . . she wants it to work. And she's not stupid, she knows it'll take a while. Have a little faith in her. And yourself."

"I guess," Edward said, reverting to the nervous habit of peeling the label off of his beer bottle.

Emmett stood from the couch and walked over to where Edward sat, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Until then, just take her out, spend time with her, remind her how you guys started and why she fell in love with your sorry ass."

Edward snorted at the insult, grateful at Emmett's natural way of making people feel better.

"I am pretty fucking irresistible. She doesn't stand a chance."

The two laughed, the heaviness of their conversation finally lifted. For the first time all week, Edward truly felt hopeful.


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm having some computer issues, so bear with me. I've narrowed it down to a memory leak, but still trying to figure out which processes are hogging the CPU. Disabling a few things has helped, but I'm still getting windows of slow running laptop, and the part that affects my writing and therefore updates... my cursor decides to jump to random parts of a doc every 20-30 seconds. Makes it VERY hard to write. I'm hoping I caught all the typos caused by this.  
**

**I'm determined to figure this out though. Hopefully soon. And if anyone has ideas, _please_ share.  
**

**Okay, so let's find out what Bella was up to while Edward was getting his butt chewed out last time.**

* * *

**Chapter 5  
**

Bella was in a dead stare, her mind spacing out as she watched laundry tumble over itself in the dryer. For once, she wasn't thinking, and she enjoyed her disconnection. So distracted by nothing, she missed the click of shoes against industrial grade tile.

"There you are."

Startled, she turned to see Alice standing in the doorway of the building's laundry room. She held a hand to her heart as though the action would stop it from racing. "Jesus, you scared me."

"Boo," Alice said with a light laugh.

The laughter trailed off as quickly as it had started. The two women were silent long after Alice had pulled herself up onto the edge of the table to sit next to her friend. Bella stared at the dryer; Alice stared at Bella.

Leaning in to nudge Bella's shoulder with her own, Alice broke the quiet. "So, how are you holding up?"

Bella sighed as she collected her words. "I'm okay, I suppose. But I can't help second-guessing everything."

"You did the right thing," Alice said as she reached over to hold her friend's hand.

"I know," Bella said.

She was unable to look at Alice. She was still embarrassed by the breakdown she'd had that night she'd fled to Alice's. Alone in the house, she'd known she had to get out, and as she mentally listed all of the places she could go, she knew that once Edward figured out that she'd left him, he would show up at each place until he found her. She hadn't been ready to be found.

So, instead, she'd told Alice she was going to find a hotel and begged her to come with her. The idea of being completely alone terrified her. She needed to vent, she needed to cry on someone's shoulder. As much as she hated to put that burden on Alice's shoulders, she was the only person she trusted enough to share such a raw and vulnerable moment with that night.

Alice had quickly packed a bag and said goodbye to Jasper who, understanding as he was, didn't pry or argue, only told them to be safe and to call if they needed anything. Alice drove while Bella sobbed out choppy phrases that did little to explain what had happened.

They'd stayed up for hours that night. Though Alice had always been her closest confidant outside of Edward, and she'd often shared relationship frustrations, she'd still held back. Her biggest fears, the same ones that sent her running from the house that night, she'd always kept to herself, afraid that by giving voice to them she would make them real.

And though Alice knew how the couple struggled, how much it hurt her to watch, she was still stunned by the depths of Bella's hurt. How she'd kept it bottled up for so long, she'd never know.

The next day, Bella had apologized profusely, embarrassed by her emotional outburst and dramatic flight from home. Alice had assured her she had nothing to apologize for, and like the good friend she was, she checked in every day. But it was still awkward for Bella, which was why she struggled to find something to say as they sat side by side.

"I tried to call but you weren't answering," Alice said. "I didn't know if you guys would be out tonight, but I was in the area so I thought I'd stop by to see you, just in case you were here."

"Oh," Bella said, and held up her phone. "Not much of a signal in here. I kept losing Edward so we finally just ended the call. We haven't really been . . . " she trailed off, thinking about her words before speaking. "We've kinda been sticking to days, ya know? It feels safer. At least for me. We haven't really talked about it. It was sort of an unspoken agreement."

Alice wrapped her arms around Bella and hugged her tight. "My heart breaks for you two. You—neither of you—deserve this. Are you going to see him this weekend?"

Bella leaned into her friend. "Yeah, we're going to meet up tomorrow afternoon for lunch then play it by ear the rest of the day. God, it's so awkward, I hate it. I can't help but wonder if this move was too drastic. There had to be an easier way, right?"

"Will you stop doubting yourself?" Alice asked, the question rhetorical. "If you'd taken the easier way, you'd be alone by yourself in that house again in no time. You guys needed big, you needed drastic. You needed the wakeup call."

The dryer cycle ended, as did the conversation. Together, the two women folded, and took the two baskets back up to Bella's apartment.

"I can't get over the view here," Alice yelled from the living room.

Bella put the last few items in drawers and walked back out.

"It's not bad."

Alice turned around and looked at her like she was crazy. "Are you nuts? Look at this!"

Bella just shrugged. It was hard to enjoy much about the apartment, knowing she'd rather be somewhere else.

"So what's been going on with you?" Bella asked. "I feel like such a bad friend. All we ever talk about is me and my drama. Talk to me. Let me live vicariously through someone whose life isn't falling apart." She laughed, trying to make a joke of it, but the blade twisted in her heart just a little bit more.

Alice, pairing a half smile and sympathetic look, spent the rest of the night talking about the mundane and the inane, the perfect distraction for her troubled friend.

* * *

At noon the next afternoon, Bella pulled up in front of a small restaurant that she and Edward had been going to for years. In college, they'd wasted hours hogging booths, eating and studying, sharing desserts, playing footsie under the table. It had been a while since they'd been here together. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time.

She was feeling nostalgic, especially when she spotted him as he waited for her by the door. He hadn't noticed her yet, so it gave her the opportunity to really see him. He seemed so tired and dejected, the way he carried himself. His posture was slumped, so much more than a simple casual slouch. She hated that she did that to him, that her actions sapped the confidence that usually radiated from him.

Growing uncomfortable—both with the spying and the guilt—she turned the car off and got out. At the sound of the door, his head shot up. Immediately he recovered from his moroseness, standing up straight and walking toward her looking much brighter and happier than he had moments ago.

"Hey," he said when he reached her.

He leaned in, taking her hand and kissing her on the cheek, and for that one, small moment, things felt normal.

"Were you waiting long?" she asked as he led her to the restaurant.

He looked down at her, a peaceful smile crossing his face. "Just a few minutes."

Looking at their menus after being seated, she heard him chuckle. "I don't know why I bother looking. I know exactly what I'll order every time."

She looked up at him, smiling herself, as they both said, "Reuben."

Skimming her menu for a few moments longer, she laid it on the table and said, "I have no room to talk. I'm not any better."

"Turkey Cranberry?" he asked, smirking.

She nodded and fought a grin.

He was smiling, and the way he smiled made her smile. For the first time, she felt like maybe—just maybe—this was working. They were okay, or at least they were on their way to being okay.

The waitress came by to take their orders and promptly left. Bella took a moment to scan her surroundings. The restaurant hadn't changed much, but the people had. She didn't recognize any of the staff. At one time, they'd been here so often that everyone was familiar. There were still students with books spread out on their tables mixed with all of the locals and families that were there.

"So, what did you get into last night?" she asked. "I'm sorry I couldn't talk longer. Reception sucked."

"That's okay," he assured. "Emmett stopped by."

His face was pinched in a cringe, and her stomach sank a little.

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

There was a beat of uncomfortable silence before Bella spoke. "So, how did that go?"

"Uncomfortable as hell?" he said, more question than answer.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"No, don't be," he said. The waitress brought their drinks out, and as soon as she was out of earshot, he continued. "Once the initial shock wore off, I think it was a good thing. He said some things I needed to hear. He was surprised, disappointed, but supportive. I didn't know how much I needed that."

"Is he mad at me?" The words tumbled out too quickly to stop them. That had been one of her big fears through all of this, that his family would resent her for putting him through all of this.

"What? No!" Edward said, nearly shouting. Then quieter, "No, of course he's not mad at you. Why would you think that?"

She couldn't look at him, and she could speak, so she only shrugged.

The next thing she knew, he was slipping into the booth beside her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Hers immediately went around him as she buried her face into his neck, trying to stem the tears that prickled at her eyes. They didn't fall, but not without effort. She breathed deeply, each breath measured, while relishing the feel of being in his arms again. This was the closest they'd allowed themselves to get, and she wasn't going to take a second of it for granted.

He pulled back slightly to look at her. "Nobody's gonna be mad. Disappointed or upset? Probably, but I think they'll mostly feel that _for_ us, not at us."

They unwound their arms from each other, but he didn't move back to the other side of the table. Instead, they sat side by side, leaning into each other. She rested her head on his shoulder, not yet ready to give up this closeness.

"How are we going to tell everybody? Our parents? I don't want any of them finding out from someone else," she said.

"I have no idea, but I guess we need to figure that out soon, huh?"

* * *

After lunch, they spent time wandering the nearby park. It was a low-key afternoon; there seemed to be an unspoken understanding to forget about their problems for the time being. After wandering around a bit, they sat alongside the small lake.

They had started out sitting next to each other, but little by little, they moved and shifted, until somehow she ended up sitting in front of him in the space between his legs, leaning back against him. He leaned forward into her, watching the water over her shoulder. A few ducks would occasionally wander toward them, leaving as soon as they realized she had no more food.

Bella had taken every last quarter that Edward had for the machine with duck food. He had teased her relentlessly, though he loved watching her. When the birds descended upon her, she paid attention, only tossing food toward the smaller, more deferential ducks that often got pushed out of the way. She'd even go so far as to shoo the pushier ducks away. She had such a big heart, one of his favorite things about her.

They stayed out until dusk began to settle in the sky, not ready to part yet. It had been such a good day, a reminder of everything they stood to lose and everything they had to gain. They continued talking, re-learning each other, through dinner, and when it was over, they stood awkwardly by their cars.

Neither was ready to call it a night, but it was getting late. None of the after-hours options appealed to them; a bar or club felt like it would spoil the peacefulness of the day they'd shared. Going back to their house seemed like a bad idea all around, the memories still too raw. And he wasn't ready to see her apartment. He hated everything it stood for, and didn't trust himself quite yet.

So instead, they decided to end on a high note. The day had been close to perfect, a good memory to build on. He walked her to her car where both were reluctant to go. He leaned in to kiss her cheek, and as he started to pull away he let instinct guide him. He pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was innocent, just a few beats longer than perfectly chaste, but the biggest physical step they'd taken thus far. As much as he missed her and wanted her back in his bed, this one small kiss felt like the most generous gift she could have given him.

Forehead against hers, he whispered, "I love you."

She looked up into his eyes and kissed him once more. "Love you too."

He didn't move as he watched her pull away, taking comfort in the way she kept watching him until he was no longer in view. They had a long way to go, and the road would be difficult, but at least they were finally on the right track.


	6. Chapter 6

**I haven't had a chance to do review replies, but I'm planning on attacking them as soon as I hit post on this chapter. I appreciate every one of them and apologize for the delay in thanking you all.  
**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

"I hate to do this to you . . . really hate to . . . But I'm going to be late tonight."

Her stomach sank, the words all too familiar although she'd grown used to not hearing them over the past month.

"It's just, these interviews today, they lasted so much longer than I expected and now I'm way behind on work."

"No, no," she said. "I get it. I do. I'm asking a lot of you, changing your entire business isn't a quick and easy task. I understand. It's okay."

And it was okay, she tried to tell herself, but old habits die hard. So as the evening grew later and later without another word, she had to make a conscious effort not to worry that they were backtracking.

Over the past few weeks, he'd been so attentive and things were looking up. This one setback didn't change that, she knew. Some things were simply out of his control and she needed to be patient during this transition. He hadn't cut late nights out entirely, but he'd been able to juggle them in a way that they never interfered with plans they'd made.

He called an hour later, apologizing profusely and rescheduling for tomorrow.

* * *

The next day, they met for dinner. He'd chosen an authentic Italian pizzeria that had opened recently. She moaned at the first bite of Margherita.

"Oh my god, this is almost like the real thing," she said. She folded her piece in half and took another big bite as he laughed.

"It is the real thing," he said. "I heard they import water from Naples for the crust."

"I'm never eating anywhere else again," she said, and paused for a moment in thought. "Every meal from here on out is here. Unless we go back to Italy."

"That was a good trip," he said.

"Yeah, even though you got conned by a nun."

He barked a loud laugh. "Shut up, I did not."

She laughed too remembering it. "You so did! You were just going to get that cross for your mom and she suckered you into the cross, the chain, and a bracelet!"

"Yeah." He sighed. "I still say she was a used car salesman in another life."

They talked about trips they'd taken for the remainder of the meal. It was a nice escape, but reminded Bella that it had been so long since they'd gone anywhere together. The last trip she could remember was a long weekend that had been cut short due to a server crash nearly a year ago.

When the bill had been paid, they began to meander down the street, hand in hand. They had no set destination in mind, no plans except to spend time together. He looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes growing more pronounced as the days passed, but he always waved off her concern.

As they turned the corner to her block, an unintentional move, she decided to take a chance. They'd avoided this for so long already.

Staring up at the building, avoiding looking at him, she pulled him to a stop. "Do you want to come up?"

She noticed the way his body stiffened, the hesitation in his silence. "Nevermind," she said, and started to walk.

"No, I'll come up."

The defeat in his voice made her wonder if this was a mistake.

* * *

The elevator ride was excruciating with its discomfort. The easy companionship they'd kept all afternoon had disappeared the moment they stepped through the double-doors of the apartment building. Logically, Edward knew that she wasn't being spiteful or malicious by bringing him here, but he couldn't help the stress and frustration welling up inside him as they ascended. This apartment was part of her life now—a necessary evil, he tried to remind himself.

But all attempts to hang onto logic failed once she opened the door. From the time she moved out, his imagination swung from one end of the pendulum to the other, depending on his mood, but he'd always hung onto the mental image that her new residence felt as temporary as they both said it would be. The reality of her apartment was altogether different. He could see so much of her in it that it felt like a punch to the gut. She'd made a home. She was comfortable. What incentive did she have to rush back to him?

"So, this is it," she said.

He could hear the discomfort and self-consciousness in her voice, but he couldn't do anything at that moment to reassure her. In his head, he was falling apart. This was why he'd always avoided coming here.

"I'm just going to, uh . . ." she said, pointing awkwardly toward the hall, "restroom."

When she disappeared from sight, he allowed himself to abandon his forced stoicism. His eyes darted around the room as his hands fisted in his hair, tugging in frustration. Beige walls and equally plain furniture, he'd expected. The frilly pillows and a throw, he didn't. Nor did he expect to see framed photographs on the walls and shelves, as well as knick-knacks and other small decorative pieces. The small bistro table and chairs visible on the balcony were too nice to be the kind that any apartment complex would pre-furnish with. A quick glance at neighboring balconies after he stepped outside proved that.

He stood with the door open, looking out over the city when he heard her footsteps behind him. He hadn't had time to compose himself again, to hide how much being here bothered him, and he flinched when he felt her hand laid flat against his shoulder blade. She quickly removed it. A small part of him knew he should try to reassure her, but his own emotions were swirling too red and angry to consider it. Too many long hours and not enough sleep blended into a volatile combination.

He sidestepped her as he walked back into the living room.

"Nice place," he said, the words falling off of his tongue like acid.

He continued to look anywhere but at her, though the pause before her answer tempted him.

"It's okay," she said.

"Cozy."

"What's that supposed to mean."

He could hear the challenge in her voice, and right now would've been the perfect time to take a step back, to calm down and start over. But his emotions were like a runaway train, hurtling toward a sharp turn with no way to navigate without derailing.

"Nothing at all," he said. The words were punctuated with a humorless laugh.

He could hear her moving around behind him. Out of the corner of his eye he watched her come to stand beside him, but he was too full of indignation and resentment to reach out to her. A month of stress and frustration built up until he was tired of being the one always reaching out.

She sighed. "Maybe this was a mistake."

"Which part?" Without a conscious thought, he went right for the dig and knew it landed when he heard her gasp.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" She stepped in front of him, forcing him to acknowledge her. "I know that you hate the idea of me living here, but come on . . . you don't have to be such an asshole about it."

Her words stoked the fire, and he felt his pulse pounding.

"Yeah, I hate it," he said. "I hated it when you decided you needed to move out. I hated it when you told me you found a place. I hate knowing that you come back to a place that isn't ours every night. But you know what? I told myself I could understand, and I thought I was somewhat okay with it. But being here and seeing just how comfortable you are?"

He shook his head and pressed his lips together, fists firmly planted at his hips. He didn't need to finish the thought; it was well implied.

"So, what?" she said. "Was I supposed to move into some dump of a breadbox because you'd be too threatened by a decent place?"

"It's not the apartment. It's this, and this." He walked over to the couch and started picking up the lacy little pillows and tossing them back down onto the cushions to emphasize his point. After a momentary pause, he waved his arm toward the bookshelf full of books and photos. "And these."

He finally looked back at her to see her jaw had dropped open as though she were entirely dumbfounded.

"You're pissed because I decorated?"

Three steps closed the gap between them. They both stood ramrod straight, neither backing down.

"I'm pissed because while I busted my ass, day in and day out, you were making a home here. I'm turning my entire business upside down for you. Every spare minute I have, I'm trying to stay caught up on my regular workload while adding more and more responsibilities to my plate. I'm trying to work on us, to make sure that you don't feel neglected. And while I'm driving myself into the ground, physically and emotionally, barely getting any sleep, you're apparently making yourself snug and happy in your new apartment."

It was her turn to yell. She stepped minutely closer, giving his chest a slight shove—nothing hard, just enough to express her irritation with him. "Do you think I'd rather be here? I wish, every day, that it hadn't come down to this. But I know myself, Edward, and I know you. We would've fallen back into old habits within a week." She growled in frustration. "And I feel so guilty knowing how much more work you're doing than me. You think that doesn't bother me? If I could take some of that burden, I would, but I'd have no clue where to even start."

"Ask," he said. "All you had to do was ask. There's plenty you could've been helping me out with. It's not all networking and databases. I'm sure you can manage filing, or cutting checks. Did it ever cross your mind to just offer to help?"

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it just as quickly. He knew he had her, she had no response.

"No, it never did, did it?" he said. "I've owned up to my role in this mess, and I'm trying like hell to change it, but you're already back to not talking to me, not telling me what's on your mind. You want to help me? You want to relieve me of some of the burden? You can't think of a way to do it so you assume that means there _is_ no way instead of just talking to me."

"I—" She started to speak but he interrupted her with his hands at the sides of her face.

"You know what? Fuck it. I'm tired of fighting," he said just before pulling her into a bruising kiss. All of the anger and aggravation morphed into need and want and lust. He pushed and she yielded until her back hit the bookshelf. A clatter echoed around them as frames and figurines smashed to the floor.

"Sorry," he said against her lips.

"No you're not," she said.

He shook his head. "No. I'm not."

Her hands scrabbled against his shirt, trying to find the hem, her hands flattening against his skin when she finally did. He pulled away just enough to lift the shirt over his head and wasted no time doing the same to hers. One hand immediately reached out for a lace covered breast, squeezing and rubbing with just the perfect amount of pressure to make her whimper. His mouth followed, teeth lightly biting over the fabric.

All of the resentment he'd felt toward this apartment morphed into a need to make his mark in it. If she was going to have a place of her own, she was damn well going to think of him. His new goal was to make sure that no matter where she stood or where she looked, she was reminded of him.

He abandoned his attention on her breasts to work at the button of her jeans until they were open and unzipped, the warmth inside obvious the moment he slipped his hand down inside and began to work her over. Her knees buckled but she grabbed onto the shelf behind her for support and he smiled with smug satisfaction at her.

"You like that, huh?"

She responded with what could've been an "uh huh" but it was hard to tell with the way she was panting and gasping.

Eventually, he tired of the limited amount of space he had to work with and pushed her jeans down her legs, taking her panties with them. She kicked them off when they got to her ankles while he removed her bra.

As soon as she was naked, she began to reciprocate. She worked his pants just past his hips, enough to free his cock. He groaned when she dropped to her knees, and taking a page from her book, grabbed onto the shelf for support. They hadn't been together like this since she moved out—the longest drought either of them had had since they'd been together—so it was no surprise that he had to close his eyes to regain some amount of control. The sight and feel of her mouth on him were too overwhelming, and he had too many more memories to make in this apartment before he lost it.

He let her go until he couldn't handle it a moment longer, taking a step back from her and urging her to her feet.

"Not yet. Not ready yet," he said. He kicked his pants and boxers the rest of the way off. Tripping and stumbling, a tangle of arms and legs, lips and tongues, he walked her to the couch and laid her over the arm so that her hips were raised.

Her eyes widened when she realized what his intentions were. He smirked, never taking his eyes off of hers as he bent over while pushing her thighs apart.

"Yes," she whispered when he put his mouth on her.

Her hands went to his hair, alternating between running through the strands and tugging by the fistful. He hissed at the pleasurable sting when she pulled a little too hard at the feel of his fingers slipping inside. His tongue flicked against her flesh in all the ways he knew she loved until he felt her body began to tighten and thrash.

"Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop," she pleaded as he stood up.

"I'm just getting started," he said.

He grabbed her hips and pulled her up over the arm of the couch again, regaining the original angle she'd lost after sliding back in all of her writhing. He was perfectly lined up like this and pushed himself against her, sliding his cock up and down, teasing her. Her breath hitched each time the head bumped over her clit.

"Please," she said. "I need you."

They both groaned when he pushed inside. He held still, allowing her to adjust and himself to gain some amount of control. A few slow thrusts quickly turned into a steady pounding. Pink fingerprints dotted the skin at her hips from the tight grip he held. The angle was too much for her and soon her back was arching as a thunderous orgasm crashed over her.

He was proud of himself, smug, as he kept hammering away.

"You like what I do to you, huh? What only I can do to you." He knew she would be sensitive and that there was a very small window where he might be able to coax another out of her. His thumb set to work against her clit as his own release neared. "Can you give me one more?"

She shook her head no, but he could already feel her tensing up for another round. His thumb moved faster and faster, each tiny circle winding her up even more until she cried out a keening wail. When her hips began to twitch and spasm, he let himself go. With a roar, he pushed himself as deeply inside her as he could, filling her, claiming her, reminding her how perfectly they fit together in every way.

He wanted to collapse with exhaustion, but given their position, it wasn't an option. He pulled out and she let herself slide down the arm of the couch and onto the cushions.

"Ow," she said and winced.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" he asked.

With a breathless chuckle, she answered. "Definitely okay. And not hurt. Just a little stiff and sore."

She'd leaned to the side a bit, still lying on the couch, as she rubbed her lower back.

"Here," he said. "Let me."

She rolled fully onto her side with his guidance, and he kneeled by her to massage the tender muscles. He could feel them loosen under his fingers.

"That feels nice," she said.

He leaned forward, placing a line of kisses over her lower back, his heart lightening at how much the action relaxed her. Even with all of their problems, they knew each other innately. Without having to say a word, she moved over to make room for him. He slipped in behind her, perilously close to falling off the edge of the couch, but not really caring. Reaching over her, he grabbed the throw that he'd mentally cursed an hour earlier and pulled it over both of them.

She grabbed his hand, tangling her fingers with his as she pulled it around her. He pressed his lips to her shoulder, and she sighed.

"We still have a lot of work ahead of us, don't we?" she said.

He didn't answer, not that he needed to. They both knew she was right.


End file.
